Sly: Remembrance
by scout-islander
Summary: Continuing from my fanfic Sly4:thieves of a kind, this fic revolves around Slys son, his new gang and revelations as to Murrays role in the gang. It's a brand new start for the worlds greatest thieves.
1. Prelude

Here's the interlude. For those of you who read my previous fanfic I hope this story will be a fitting start for a new series.

Mr. Edwards placed his tall hat upon his head once more. The baby cried in his arms as he picked it up and headed out of the barn into the mist, where Mrs. Durrow waited patiently. She had been worrying all morning about what she would do with the baby and had been frantically searching for someone to help for over three hours. Staring over the landscape made her feel quite cold. The fog seemed to give the air a sinister edge, the trees pervading the air where the fog finished giving a feel of arms reaching for the light. In the corner of a meadow lay a small mound of earth where the old barn owl Barnabus pecked away at his latest catch squirming to get free. Mrs. Durrow flicked her tongue and put her bony fingers to her lizard lips and made a whistling noise. Barnabus, now finished with his catch, flew back to his mistress, preening his feathers against her bonnet. Mr. Edwards steeped forward and unfolded the baby's' wrapping. The small Raccoon continued to bawl in Mr. Edwards hands.

"Begging your pardon sir, but…what will you do with him?" Mrs. Durrows bent her knees ever so slightly as the tall rhino caressed the babe with gentle strokes.

"I'm afraid it's the orphanage for him, Mrs. Durrows. He seems to have a few belongings left. I'm guessing he was abandoned, but most likely out of sorrow rather than shame. It couldn't have been an easy decision. This book astounds me in its scriptures…"

"Perhaps it would be beast if you had the book examined by the museum," crooned Mrs. Durrows, "The lad is far too young to be dealing with books. If the scriptures are as thorough as you say, you'd be paid handsomely!"

The Rhino shook his head. " No, no, I was an orphan myself once upon a time, and I know that the most precious things of my life were what my parents left to me. I'll take good care of him, and you'd better do the same for yourself now. It's getting awfully cold in the winter now." He nodded to her and made his way to the car at the end of the drive. Mrs. Durrows waved his goodbye, and Barnabus gave the car a silent look as all owls do, before flying off towards the leftover prey. Mrs. Durrows continued with the washing, each time wandering what had ever become of her farm.

As Mr. Edwards drove out of the village, he glanced over at the child's book which he had placed on the seat next to him. He saw that it was immaculate in places where it was not tattered, and the front cover was bound for some reason. Removing the cover, he was curiously intrigued at the words dotted across the page. Two Latin words from the looks of it. The title read 'Thevious Racoonus" And as he read the words aloud to himself, the baby smiled and gave a giggle. And so the car drove on.\

The metallic humming continued. Whirring machinery could be seen spread across the room, All inspected by the general director himself. The General twirled his moustache as the screen before him flickered into life. A baby Raccoon girl lay in the arms of a shadowed figure. The figures eyes, however, managed to penetrate the darkness and glared straight at the seal. He gasped as small wires appeared around him, hoisting him up. The figure gave a hollow laugh and lay the baby to one side, holding up a keypad and shaking it.

"Well Darius," The figure said in a high, refined voice, "It seems that your little factory has been heisted once more. But this time I actually need something from you. Listen carefully and we may all benefit from this pact…"

And so began the pact…


	2. The getaway

Chapter 1

The old house creaked as the boiler began to power on in the basement. One by one the nurses began to wake up each of the children, each rubbing their eyes of sleep and clambering out of their bunks. Sly was already awake and up as usual, sitting on the top bunk and clutching his book. As the children made their way down to the food hall, Sly held back, waiting for Webster and Roy to join him, following the rest of the children at the back. Mr. Edwards had gotten used to the three boys togetherness and spent most of his time claiming that 'It's extremely healthy for the young lad to be making such friends, and only good can come of it.' Slys years had certainly been that way for the time being.

He had gotten on well when he was first brought back, and he was named Sly by a note found in the book detailing the owner, who possibly could've been the boys father. It was only fitting that the old owner of the book should share the name with the new owner. Sly had made fast friends with two of the boys in his bunk space, the first being Webster, a young bee who poured over books on engineering, science and general knowledge quizzes. His wings were very powerful, and had made him take his mechanics to an aviating point of view of flying machines and the like. Most of all, Webster would often explain parts of the Thevious Racoonus to Sly, so that not only could his friends be in on the legacy, but so could Sly with a better understanding. Webster often outshone Sly with his intelligence, and yet he marveled Slys prowess and athletic ability, and also his morals.

The other boy was Roy, a whale who hadn't hit it off with the other boys due to his clumsiness. He found a friend in Webster, and if asked why they got on, Webster would just say he'd never met a nicer person in the house. It could safely be said that Roy had a big heart, and often protected Webster when he was bullied. He was never seen without his red handkerchief wrapped round his neck, and when he laughed water would spout from a hole in the middle of his head. He and Sly also got on, often listening to Slys jokes and stories and also detailing the adventures told in the Thevious Racoonus. Roy was just happy to have friends at last.

Mr. Edwards had always enjoyed watching the boys get on, yet at lunch, while Webster and Roy would talk to each other, Sly would not utter a single word, instead munching on his food and reading the book. He was doing so now, eating his breakfast contentedly and holding the book on his lap. Sly was soon approached by Miss Dira, who began to scold the boy for reading and not appreciating his food. Mr. Edwards sighed and turned away. He knew the boy would come under fire from Miss Dira, a cat who had only been employed due to her fathers' roots. She had become the 'face' of the orphanage, and not a single person would go near her if they knew her. He pitied the boy as he quickly put the book under the table and continued eating. Edwards knew that time was getting along, and that there was nothing to help the boy. He'd have to let him get on.

Miss Dira continued to eye the three boys over the following days, not allowing them out of her sight and holding them up for every little thing they'd do, be it talking out of turn, being late for lunch…it wasn't like this was the first time it had been a problem. When Webster had been sorting out his experiments before lunch and made sure he was only two minutes late he was still forced to sit in the lunchroom at the end of the day for half an hour and watch Miss Dira eat a rather plain lunch. Sly was never one of her prime targets, but his reading of the racoonus irritated her. It was almost as though she had a sort of aversion to the book, muttering under her breath every time she saw Webster or Roy come to check the book. He did feel that injustice was around him wherever she was as well, and he knew who her prime targets were: the kids who were too young to understand why she would do these things to them, and Roy, who she would maliciously taunt in order to make him cry, and later ask if he'd learnt his lesson. Sly would keep his nose in his book and read of his fathers exploits against those who didn't deserve their wealth while he was hunted down. He was beginning to feel the same way.

One evening, Sly was reading up on his father's journey to the outback when he heard a child cry. Poking his head round the corner, he saw Miss Dira hold out a doll and dangle it out of the Childs reach. The child continued to cry.

"Do you know why I have taken this from you, spiteful little one?" Dira gave a sly smile as the child shook her head. "Good, then I hope you've learnt your lesson. You shall have no supper with us tonight." So saying Dira turned a corner to leave the weeping child. Sly clenched his fist in anger, but he knew that all he could do was walk away. He prayed she wouldn't look their way at supper. As he continued down the hall, Dira grabbed him from behind and gave him an evil sneer. "Now listen, boy, everything you have seen just now is none of your horrible little business. Perhaps you really do have the penchant for being a young vagabond thug like your wretched father." This made a lump rise in Slys throat. He tried not to cry. He knew that word of his fathers thievery had spread through the orphanage. He wished that the orphanage had given him a false second name. He soon found himself flung forward as Dira locked him in a broom cupboard. He waited until she had gone, and quickly unpicked the lock. A few moments later, he had disappeared upstairs once more.

It was midnight, and Sly was fast asleep in his bunk. He awoke with a start as Roy suddenly began to sniff loudly, and Sly looked down to see he was crying. He leaned from his top bunk.

"What's the matter, buddy?" He queried.

"Miss Dira, she's taken Humphrey. He was my only toy after the fire, and I can't sleep without him. He reminds me too much of home…"

"Aww, cheer up Roy. Hey, Webster!" Webster gave a start.

"What is it, moron! By my calculations, it should be one in the morning by now!"

"Yeah, sorry about that…listen, Miss Diras taken Roys Humphrey and we need to get him back, so I was thinking…"

"Yeah," Webster was curious now, and he always knew when Sly had a brainstorm, it was normally a good one.

"How 'bout we act like my folks in this book! We can take it back ourselves, right?"

Webster was now on alert. "Sounds like a plan, Sly. Here's an idea…."

Sly hid behind the line the guys had tied to each side of the doorframe. Roy stood outside the other hallway with the vent shaft leading to Diras room, and Webster admired his work.

"This is great!" He whispered, "With the string down here, Roy'll make the noise on his trumpet, she'll come running out and trip right up on the line."

"But how will we know she'll have Humphrey?"

Webster gave Sly a knowing look. "Look, you know what she's like, right? The most possessive person out there, she's bound to be holding it while she sleeps. I guess she gets her kicks out of possessions and confiscations. Now ready yourselves in 3…2…1…go!"

It all kicked off. Roy blew the trumpet, the loud sound instantly causing the sounds of a scream and movement inside Diras room. She burst out, and with a cat-like screech tumbled over the line. Sure enough, Roy's teddy sprung from her outstretched arms, and he grabbed it and hugged it with all of his might. He did not notice the furious Dira rise up over the three, shoulders hunched and breathing angrily. She slapped Sly out of the way and bounded towards their dorm. Not knowing what was going on, they quickly rushed to see her holding up Slys book, now with a lopsided and wide-eyed expression on her face. She pointed accusingly at the boy.

"I knew you were a trouble-maker right from the start! This book must be some filth that teaches children how to be petchalant and disobedient! I know truly of your family boy, for I too have read this book as you slept. I know of your thieving ways and I shall not let it continue! Damn you and your idiotic friends! Damn this book!" And with a triumphant smile, she ripped the pictured of his father from the books inlay. She began to tear out another page, then another, then another, and Sly could only stand and watch, tears in his eyes. It was at this point that a low hum pervaded the air. Miss Dira stopped as the hum sounded nearer and nearer, closer and closer. And then…Dira fainted as a huge pair of yellow eyes; belonging to an unseen body was seen at the window. The hum continued and the yellow-eyed shadow seemed to begin to scowl, large fingers appearing and pointing to the boys. They simply ran as fast as they could, down the stairs, as the metallic cry grew louder. Sly had no idea what it was he'd just seen, and he didn't want to stay to find out. Webster suddenly pulled Sly into the garden and pointed at the children's buggy that could fit all three of them. They jumped into their new personal buggy, and Roy peddled as fast as his fins could carry him, glancing back to see the yellow eyes casting light on the house. Roy mopped his brow, thankful that his bear was once again by his side. Webster looked up at Sly.

"Well, this is it pal…do you think we'll ever…y'know…"

Sly shook his head. "Not now Webster. Not now or ever. We've decided to be like my dad and…and…" He tried to find the words, but they wouldn't come. The buggy continued to sail into the night, and Roy could swear that a huge, lumbering figure with yellow eyes was plodding away from the house in the direction of the sea….


	3. The result

Chapter 3:

And here they were.

Sly and comrades were feeling liked no time at all had really passed since that fateful night. No longer would they have to consider themselves as poor, parentless children, the rest of their future looming before them, watching images of themselves being treated like dirt, beggars on the streets, the terrible image of the monster at the orphanage lumbering towards them in their minds...

No, no. The book had taught them too well.

Sly had simply followed in his fathers footsteps, providing for his friends and living up to his thieving name. But soon, Webster and Roy had begun providing for him. As Roy had said, "It's easier to feed your friends then it is to feed yourself." It didn't really make sense, but Roys phrases often didn't. It wasn't just the way they lived that the book had changed...but their personalities.

Sly had once been a shy, adventurous tyke, spending most of his time gazing in wonder at the book. And now, he was a cunning, silent thief who was far more open. The reason? Once their departure had begun, Sly had tried to copy some of the techniques shown in the book. To his amazement they had worked, and soon he was forgetting about getting it right and more interested in being impulsive. He would even try and get the guys to emulate him, but they never truly carried his enthusiasm. Sly had also become a far more intelligent person as a whole, thanks to a library the guys used as their hide-out. Sly, hungering for more books and knowledge of the world, poured over most of the books, finally able to put pictures to cities his father had visited. These books also prompted him to keep up to date with the latest goings on in the social communities so that he may try his hand at some proper robberies. However, there was a fault. His father had been, according to his fathers' friends entrances in the book, suave, sophisticated, and an overall charmer. Sly was all of these things, but he tended to actually end up ignored by many women. The times his father had lived in were over- the only people he could convince were the rich nobles and their impressionable wives who would find themselves charmed by such a youth, in disguise of course. But Sly was just not his father...and that was, secretly, the way he wanted to be. For while he was not an overall small-talker with his generation, he was perhaps the finest mechanic.

Webster was still a short bumblebee. He had never really advanced physically and spent his time thinking up plans for where the gang should stay. The library soon became his own corporate enterprise, creating his own at only ten. As the years went on, he began to support the guys and draw up their missions. And he had certainly changed from the impolite yet friendly genius he had once been. He had read of one of the Coopers members who had been driven mad with being second fiddle to the gang, and he knew that he certainly didn't see Sly and Roy as better than him. He soon began worrying more for his team-mates than himself, staying away from the field so that he couldn't worry so much. He would still give the odd sarcastic remark, but knew when enough was enough. Perhaps his greatest bond was with Roy, who stayed behind to supervise while Sly was away on a hiest. Webster was now also becoming much more aware of the impact the original brains, Bently, had had on the world. Apparently, Wiseturtle industries had been activated for over fifty years, and one day, it just stopped, with the creator himself disappearing. His wife, Penelope, had denied all accounts of kidnapping and divorced from her husband, claiming that he was too obsessed with his work, while she had begun her own home-built company. Annoyed at the hours he spent on his technology, she left both her business and his all to him. Webster had always hoped that he might be able to find at least one connection as to how to find Bently, but even could not provide.

Roy had changed the most. Once a scared, childish...child, he had bloomed into a large and intimidating Whale who knew how to handle himself. His inspiration solely came from the thevious racoonus's articles on 'the murray', the muscle of the team. Roy spent his days imagining he was the murray, but got his dream when the gang finally went into action. Time had not completely stolen his personality, however, as he continued to get emotional about anything to do with his friends. It can safely be said that 'those who deal with my friends…ENRAGE ME!" Roys recent bombshell was upon reading the final chapter of the Racoonus and discovering that his idol had been killed by the gangs oldest enemy. At this point Roy decided to denounce the book, claiming that it was 'A sick, twisted fantasy that just happens to work,' and began writing his own tales of what might have become of 'the Murray.' He shed a tear for the hero every night, even in times when he was forced to fight for the gang.

But the gangs twisting lifestyle was just about to take another turn...

You see, it isn't every day that a young group of boys ever get to become a gang of thieves. It took years for them to even realise that they may never be free again. While Sly knew that his father enjoyed the life, he knew that one day, the feeling would wane. The three of them had travelled around many different parts of the world. They'd seen the sights. They'd seen the adventure. Now, they wanted to keep low. It had led to the teams growing development into becoming…actual criminals. For them, the original cooper rules became more like stepping stones. It was the only way, it seemed, to make the feeling stay with them. Theft became petty. Dreams turned sour. But through all of this…the team still refused to sway.

It was a cold, blustery evening as Sly sat back, admiring his latest find. The thevious racoonus was sitting proudly on a shelf, catching the light of this jewel on its brass buckle. He turned to see his friend Webster still typing away on the internet, completely enveloped in his work. He always seemed to be working away at something or other- whether it was the entire community chat of Thiefnet or another misguided project. It was at that moment that Roy burst in, panting. He was holding a newspaper, pointing to it frantically.

'Guys,' he panted, his breath refusing to allow him to speak. Sly, an eyebrow raised, noticed that the whales thumb was securely pressed into a picture on a back page of the newspaper, and that he had actually drawn a large circle over a piece of the picture. He waved it once more, his breath finally catching up with his voice and allowing him to finally gasp his news.

'GUYS…IT'S HIM. IT'S THE MURRAY!'

At first, Sly didn't believe that this could be possible and laughed, but Roy insisted on showing him the rest of the picture. Looking carefully, he saw that it was of a crowded area. The article itself was concerning Russia, and right in the corner was something circled in red. Peering ever closer, Sly suddenly reeled back in shock. Sure enough, there stood the very figure of their past, a recognised only by the shape of his head and the visible stitching of a mask.

It was a long shot…but a good one.


End file.
